Taking The Money
by Championship Vinyl
Summary: A dream--not a story where the events actually happened. Anya and Dimitri's daughter Tasha goes to sleep, and we find out just what would have happened if he took the reward and she took the crown....See for yourself! Reviews, please.
1. Supper Scenario

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Anastasia, do own Tasha and Mikhail, and wish I could just stop saying that. Ah, well. Anyway. **

**This piece is very different for me. Usually, I only write stuff if it _happened_, you know? I write stories that continue on the given plot. I'm not a fact-changer. And this is still true---I will start out by saying, right up front, that THIS STORY IS A DREAM. Okay? I'm not gonna try to fake anybody out here. I will say before I even begin that this entire story is a dream had by their daughter Tasha. No confusion. Basically, I just wanted to go into how differently things would have turned out if, as the title says, Dimitri took the money, and Anya took the crown. (Oooo, intrigue.) :D**

**I'm telling you this now because I would never ever ever in a million years write a story where Anya and Dimitri are apart and consider it as a real event. Ever. And I will also assure you that they are not permanently apart, neccesarily. Let's just say...the paths they take are a little more complicated. ;D**

**This story will be fun, interesting, and different, so why don't I shut up so you can get to the prologue already? :D Peace & love.**

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"What do you think would have happened if you guys didn't elope?"

Dimitri and Anya both looked up from their plates, thrown completely off guard. One minute they'd been eating a quiet dinner---the next, their daughter hits them with a question from left field.

Tasha looked from her mother to her father and back again, waiting on an answer.

Looking at Dimitri, who gave a clueless shrug, Anya decided it was up to her to field this one. "Well," she started, setting her spoon down, "I've never thought about it. I guess we just would've had a regular wedding later."

"But what if you didn't?"

"You sure you wanna question your existence?" Dimitri teased, turning the page of his newspaper.

_Oh, sure,_ Anya thought, _now he speaks._

Tasha ignored the laughter of her nine-year-old brother and continued. "I'm just saying, what if everything you'd told me had gone completely differently? Like if Dad had taken the money, or if you decided to be a Duchess after all. Wouldn't that be so wierd?"

Anya stood up and cleared some of the plates from the table. "I suppose so. But it's no one's concern, because everything _did_ happen the way it did, and everybody's perfectly fine."

"Well, maybe except for your brother," Dimitri joked, glancing at his son with a grin. "We may have dropped him as a baby."

"Oh, shoot, we weren't supposed to tell him that," Anya smiled, playing along.

"He'll manage. Won't you, Mikey."

The boy nodded, stuffing another biscuit in his mouth, and Tasha stood up with a yawn.

"I think I'll go to bed early tonight," she announced. "I'm kind of tired. Is that okay?"

"Of course! We'll save you some dessert. You're not feeling sick, are you?" Anya asked, ever the concerned mother.

"No, just a little sleepy." She kissed Dimitri on the cheek---"'Night, Papa"---gave her mother a quick hug---"'Night Mama"---and proceeded to mess up Mikhail's hair---"Squirt, stay outta my room"---before heading up the stairs.

Once in the cozy confines of her bedroom, Tasha shut the door and curled up on her bed, waiting only moments before sleep overtook her.

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**The stage is set! Prepare to see some events go just a little differently as we see what the years have done to our heroes....;D Reviews are much appreciated. Buckle up!**

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	2. Justly Rewarded

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**And so the dream begins....;D We're fading in, all slow-like, we're in the drawing room in Paris....**

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"You sent for me, your grace?"

The regal old woman waved an aging hand at the suitcase beside her. "Ten million rubles, as promised, with my gratitude."

Dimitri said nothing. His focus was on that suitcase. That treasure. The answer to all his problems, note for note, pound for pound.

There was only one thing stopping him from saying the magic words and fleeing the premises, and it hung at the back of his mind like a projection that played over and over.

He couldn't stop picturing her face. Her eyes. A new beginning. Some idea of grandeur---love, family, the works. Everything he'd never had.

Of course, he'd never had money, either.

She had everything she wanted now. She was the daughter of the Tsar; the Grand Duchess Anastasia. And he was a servant, and his odds were slim.

"Young man?" He realized the Dowager Empress was still looking at him. "You may claim your reward now. I assume that's why you agreed to come?"

Dimitri waited only a second more. "Yes," he exhaled, and he nodded. "Yes."

The Dowager snapped the lid closed, fastened it, and picked the suitcase up from the desk. She handed it to him. "I thank you again for your services. What you've done.... It means so much to us."

_I'm sure it does. _Dimitri took the handle, bowing one more time. "My pleasure, your highness. Thank you." With that, he turned and left the room. He couldn't look Marie in the eye anymore.

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In the middle of being draped in luxe fabrics and prodded with needles and pins, Anya noticed someone coming down the staircase out of the corner of her eye.

She looked down at the maid kneeling at her feet. "Excuse me, uh, do you mind if I just...talk to someone for a second? You're doing a great job, by the way." She still wasn't exactly sure how to talk to help, and it was evident.

The maid nodded. "Certainly, your highness."

Anya made her way to the stairs and intercepted Dimitri before he could leave. It was hard not to notice the suitcase he held, and the sight of it formed a pit in her stomach she couldn't ignore.

"Hello, Dimitri."

He looked up for the first time, though he'd seen her before then. _Play it cool. She's where she belongs, and soon so are you._ "Hello."

"Did you collect your reward?" She knew the answer.

He suddenly wanted to ignore the suicase completely. "My business is complete."

At that moment an aide at the bottom of the stairs looked up at the interaction. "Eh, young man, you will bow and address the princess as, 'your highness.'"

Anya thought about correcting the guy, but decided better of it. _If this is how he's gonna be, then let him._

"Your highness," Dimitri corrected, bowing to her. "I'm glad you found what you were looking for."

"Yes, I'm glad you did too."

"Well then." Dimitri wanted to keep talking to her, but he realized, with what he'd just done, there was nothing left to say. "Goodbye...your highness." With a final bow, he left the room as quickly as he could.

Anya sighed, her heart following him, her mind hating him. "Goodbye..."

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Nothing could top this evening. Having a half-dead traitor try to kill you really tended to bump other bad days out of the running.

And then there was how it ended.

Dimitri had come back, presumably for her. But now, after the fight, after thinking he was dead, after everything he'd done, Anya could only look at him. Then at the crown he handed her. Then at the party.

"They're waiting for you."

_He doesn't...he's not thinking the same thing you are,_ she told herself. _That's not why he came back. He doesn't love you. He profited off you._

_He took the money. And he left._

"Yes," she said clearly, making her decision. "They are."

She took her crown from his hands and slipped it back onto her head, tucking undone strands of her hair back into place. Dimitri said nothing, no expression, but the look in his eyes was satisfying, at least to someone who'd tried to cause it.

He cleared his throat. "So. You, uh...you take care of yourself."

"Yeah," she replied, giving him at least that much. "I will. You too, okay?"

"Sure." Holding back from saying something that would blow his cover, he instead took her hand and kissed it, briefly, and stood up. "So long, Anastasia."

"'Bye."

Anya sat on the concrete and watched him go, picking his jacket up from the ground as he left. When he was too far away too see, she stood up, brushed off her tattered gown, and headed back in to the celebration. It was in her honor. They were, indeed, waiting for her.

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Dimitri took a private car back home. It was one of the advantages of posessing ten million rubles. St. Petersburg. That's where he belonged.

Sitting against the window, swaying every time the track hit a bump, he grabbed his jacket and pulled out the bottle of vodka he'd picked up on the way. Sighing, he uncorked it and took a long drink.

_I wonder how long before I fall asleep._

He looked out from the empty car toward the darkening countryside. Already drowsy, trying to be glad he was alone, he guessed not long at all.

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**What's done is done.... The title of the next chapter will indicate the passage of time, so stay sharp on those kinds of things (I know you do). Hope you're enjoying, please review, you know the drill...**

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	3. Five Years Later

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**Title says it all. You'll see some of the characters I created here, but in a slightly different way than before. Lydia and Rosaline, whom I described in my story "Somewhere Down This Road," are still friends of Anya's like before. Since going back to St. Petersburg with the money, though, Dimitri's entourage now includes Paulie and Gregorio, his friends from when he was 17 in "Journey To A Different Past," as well as Leonitka Seydinov, the guy from "JTADP" and "Trusting You" who's more of a con man than Dimitri ever was. They'd have reconnected when he went home rich, and now Gregorio's the yes-man, Leo's the slimy conniving one, and Paulie's his best friend à là John Cusack/Jeremy Piven. Okay, that's all you need to know. Five years after they went separate ways....**

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The sky was bright blue, the fall air crisp, the leaves still green that day. The people of Paris milled about the streets, and among them, a group of young men with a look of prosperity about them made their way down the sidewalk.

The one in the center---brown hair, newsboy cap, sly grin---was saying something to one of his friends. They wanted to see a show. He told them to go on ahead. He wanted to look around some more.

He hadn't seen the city of Paris in five long years.

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On the other side of the street, the crowd made way for a group of a different kind. Eight high heels clacked down the boulevard, and all eyes were on the four socialites as they shopped away another afternoon.

On the left, there was a freckled blondish-readhead and an elegant raven-haired Parisian. On the right, there was a large, rosy blonde woman. In the back, there were two broad-shouldered bodyguards.

But in the center.... In the center, the young woman with the fiery-hued updo and the piercing blue eyes was captivating everyone's attention.

Like all of them, she was clothed in only the most fashionable; and yet at the same time she stood a cut above the rest. A charcoal grey box hat was pinned to the top of her chignon, its short mesh veil brushing over her eyes. Her grey suit was designer, its skirt ironed smooth, its brass-buttoned blazer piped in pure white and pleated at the waist.

She was envied. She was guarded. She was modern royalty.

And she recognized someone across the street.

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Anastasia stopped in her tracks. As if on command, so did her cousin and friends. She could barely breathe. _Is he...? Is that...?_

"Anastasia?" Rosaline waved a hand in front of her face, and she blinked. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing...I...it's just...I...."

Lydia looked in the direction she was gaping. "Who do you see? Is it that obnoxious Baroness Westfeldt again, because I _swear_---"

"No, no, Lydia, no, it's nothing like that." _It's him, I know it. He's alone! Still?_ She turned to the group. "Come with me---just don't say anything, okay?"

They all exchanged a confused glance, except for Anastasia, who was trotting across the street, and the two guards, who, well...never had expressions. They followed.

One of the shops was having a sidewalk sale, and he was flipping through ties as she approached him. All the better, because that way he couldn't see her muttering nervously to herself.

"Excuse me," he heard. He thought he recognized the voice. He _knew_ he did. "Excuse me..."

He looked up, and brown eyes met blue for the first time in five long years.

"Anya?" he gasped, when he could speak.

She smiled---she hadn't been called that since...well, since five years ago. "Dimitri---I _thought_ it was you! How've you been?"

"Oh, fine. Yeah, I'm great. Great. Couldn't be better in fact," he stammered, breaking his own Idiot record. "You?"

"I've been wonderful. Living with Grandmama, signing things, making appearances, you know."

He didn't. He nodded anyway. "You look...great," he managed.

"Thanks. So do you. So how about you?" she asked. "What're you doing in Paris?"

"Business."

Anastasia tried not to laugh. "_Business_?_ You_?"

"Yeah, you heard me," he grinned. "Me and a couple friends of mine. Low-stakes financial transaction."

"Listen to you sounding like Mr. Succesful Grown-Up," she giggled. "Oh! I'm so sorry---this is Lydia and Rosaline, you know Sophie, and these guys are my guards, Earl and Henry," she introduced, pointing to each in turn. "Grandmama's idea," she added, rolling her eyes.

But Dimitri didn't hear the last part. He was staring at her left hand. Third finger. Large diamond.

She caught on quickly. "Oh." She looked sheepish, and wouldn't make eye contact. "His name's Boris Yaltykov. He just became a Duke, actually."

Dimitri swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing he had to get out of there. "Con...congratulations."

"Thank you." He voice was almost a whisper.

Of course, Sophie was blissfully oblivious to all this. "Oh!" she cried. "I have a _wonderful_ idea! Dimitri, you should come to the wedding! It's next week, and I know Vladimir would love to see you. The more the merrier! In _fact_, I believe we're short on groomsmen---you can be in the wedding party!"

Dimitri wanted to pass out. He wanted to crawl under somebody's front porch and die. But instead, he heard his voice say, "Sure. I'd be honored."

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**Big twist, huh? Guess you'll just have to see what happens...;D Reviews are awesome.**

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	4. Manners, Ladies And Gentlemen

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**Here's the next one. Keep in mind what I said about Paulie being like Jeremy Piven to Dimitri's John Cusack---in fact, just picture Paulie being _voiced_ by Jeremy Piven. That works. (If you've seen _Serendipity_ you'll get what kind of on/off-screen friendship I'm talking about.) Everyone's reactions to the new "arrangement"...;D...**

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"So let me get this straight." Paulie was pacing back and forth in his hotel suite. "You ran into the Grand Duchess."

"Yep." Dimitri ran an exasperated hand through his hair.

"The same girl whose life you saved. Twice."

"Yeah."

"Who you got the reward for."

"That's right."

"Who you practically loved more than oxygen."

"Remind me to kill you for saying that, but yeah, pretty much."

"And she's getting _married?_" Paulie spat in disbelief.

Dimitri sat on the desk, head in his hands. "You got it," he sighed.

"And _you agreed_ to be a _groomsman?_" Paulie looked at him with one of his 'boy-are-you-stupid' faces. "How? Why? How? Why _How_?"

"I _had_ to. It was offered, I couldn't say no. It would've been rude _not_ to. How would that've looked?"

"Like you're a man with better things to do and no unhealthy issues whatsoever."

"Oh, thanks, Paulie, you're a huge help. Seriously. Look out the window, I think that statue of you is going up as we speak." Dimitri let out a troubled sigh. "What am I gonna do?"

Paulie sat next to him on the desk and put an arm across his shoulders. "You, my friend," he told him, "are going to a wedding."

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"He's _going_ to the _wedding?_" she shreiked, turning on Sophie the minute he was out of sight.

"What?" Sophie looked truly clueless. "It was the polite thing to do---he already knew about it. I thought you were friends!"

"He broke my heart, Soph! I haven't seen him in _five years_! And now he's going to be a groomsman in my _wedding?_"

"Anastasia. Anastasia. Calm down," Rosaline soothed. "We could always uninvite him if you feel that strongly about it."

She thought about it, but that was no option either. "No," she relented, "no. It's done. He has to come. It would be rude to cancel now. He'd just get suspicious."

"Good," Sophie declared, pulling a small planner from her purse. She jotted down a few notes. "I'll look up his hotel and tell him to meet the rest of the boys at the plaza tomorrow. It won't be so bad---you'll see."

The young duchess turned her gaze skyward, certainly hoping she was right.

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**Here we go...;D You know what I'm about to say...it starts with an "r" and rhymes with "shmeview"....:D**

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	5. Here Comes The Pride

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**Yes, before you even ask, this 'Boris' _is_ the same guy Dimitri got into a fight with in a chapter of "Journey To A Different Past." Read on. Love reviews!**

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The next day, Dimitri and the guys stood on the sidewalk outside the plaza, trying to...well, no. They were just stalling.

"Okay, buddy," Paulie began, trying his best to sound like some kind of athletic coach. "We're goin' in. You ready for this?"

Dimitri glared at him. "The word 'no' would be an understatement."

Paulie pretended he'd heard 'yes.' "Great! Let's go!" He started to walk inside, but Dimitri grabbed him by the collar.

"Look," Gregorio broke in, "maybe it's best if he doesn't go through with this."

"Bull." Leo stopped watching traffic long enough to throw his two cents in. "You're stronger than she is---just get in there and stop bein' a pansy."

Dimitri stepped forward, raising a hand. "Hi, Face, this is Fist---I don't believe you've met."

"Whoa, whoa whoa, guys. Cool it." Paulie stepped in between them. Turning to Dimitri, he gave him a crucial look. "Your call."

Dimitri took a deep breath. He looked up at the plaza. All nine thousand stories of it.

"All right. Let's go in."

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After the introductions, a minute or two of staring at the venue, and a moment of awkward silence, Dimitri couldn't resist anymore. He looked up---yes, _up_---at Anya's new fiancè. The resemblance was too much to be a coincidence. He had to ask.

"So. Boris, was it?"

"Yep."

"Huh." Paulie knew where he was going, and started frantically shaking his head 'no,' but Dimitri ignored him. "Didn't I beat you up in an alley in '23?"

Paulie smacked himself in the face. When he looked up, he was mouthing the words 'Are you drunk?'

Boris only laughed, though. "So _that's_ where I know you from! Seems like you're a bit confused on who won, though. Ah, well, let's let bygones be bygones, shall we, little buddy?" He gave Dimitri a friendly slap on the back that nearly inverted his rib cage.

"Sure," he coughed. "This'll be fun."


	6. No Holds Barred

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**After the groomsmen thing at the plaza. Go on... **

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Eight men had arrived at the hotel bar. Only one was left, and it was the one whose life was currently a royal mess. It was almost closing, but he wasn't going anywhere. He drained another glass.

"Hit me," he yelled at the barkeep.

"Hey, pal, it's nine fifty," the surprisingly American-sounding bartender complained.

Dimitri swiveled his head around and glared at the guy. "Hey! I'm payin' ya, aren't I? That's all I got. Money. Time and money. Nobody's wondering where I am, get it? Hit me!"

The bartender gave in after this tirade and took his empty glass, and behind him, someone said, "I know someone who's looking for you."

Dimitri whirled around on his barstool, keeping a hand on the counter for balance. A guard flanked the empty doorway, and in front of him was Anastasia.

He smiled. "You look beautiful."

She crinkled her nose up. "You've been drinking."

"Both of these are true." He picked up the full glass that had been placed in front of him and stared into it. "So who's looking for me? You?" His tone seemed to say 'yeah, right.'

"_No_. Boris. He said you picked up the tab and were attempting a stakeout."

"_Boris_," Dimiri grumbled, practically choking on the name. "Whaddoyou _see_ in that ogre? His kind's a dime a dozen."

Anastasia's eyes narrowed. "Well if _that's_ the case then you could afford a whole _town_ of him, _couldn't _you?" she spat, turning to leave. "Keep hiding, spend your money. It's what you're good at."

The only reason she didn't go was because Dimitri spoke, and the only reason he spoke was because vodka was not weak.

"Why should I have stayed? You didn't lo...need me. You had everything."

Her highness' temper was in full effect now. "That's where you're wrong," she hissed. "And for your information, I'm marrying Boris because it's expected of me, not because I ran out looking for some kind of replacement. Do you even remember that we were best friends as kids? Do you think I don't know it was you who opened that stupid wall? Don't you think I would have prefered you? Do you remember skipping town with your pile of money?" She blinked to keep her eyes dry, but it wasn't entirely successful.

"I came back!" he roared. "And you made your choice! You had _everything!_ I had _nothing!_ That money was---"

"You _left_!" she interrupted. "It's not about the reward! You _hurt_ me; I _had_ to take---" She couldn't do this anymore. Glaring at him, she went on, her voice lowered. "Anyway, it's useless to ask. I bet right now you can't even remember this _morning_."

He couldn't argue. She was right. Turning on her heel, she stormed out, and her guard followed.

Dimitri digested what he'd just heard, along with about a quart of vodka. It was time, he decided, for a new tactic.

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**Wondering what he's thinking? (Me too; I haven't written it yet.) :D So their conflicts are out on the table---now how to deal with it. Stay tuned, and review as always, thanks!**

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	7. Execute Operation Redo

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**Next day. Important character upcoming! Read.**

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He had somewhere to go. Not later. Now.

He didn't want to walk, either, and he didn't want to rent a chauffer. He was too restless for that. So when he said he was going to jog four miles to an "appointment," Paulie was jogging right beside him.

They were on the last mile now. "What...is the objective?" Paulie huffed.

Dimitri kept his eyes forward. "Get Anya back."

"What is the objective?"

"Get Anya back."

"I can't hear you!"

"Get Anya back!"

"Atta boy!"

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"Are you ready yet?"

Lydia's voice made its way to Anastasia in the dressing room, and it was impatient as always.

"Not yet!"

Hard as she tried, the stupid zipper on the back of the stupid dress just wouldn't go up. Finally she gave up, and, holding it closed behind her back, she stepped out of the stall.

Instantly she was met with a round of "Ooooh"s and "Ahhh"s, and she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, can somebody just _help_ please?"

She sighed as Rosaline stepped up to work the zipper, trying not to take the past five minutes---or the past three days---as a sign.

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He told Paulie to leave him at the door. This had to be done alone.

He knocked once. Then twice. Then three times. Finally, the door creaked open.

"Hey, old friend."

Vlad said nothing. Instead, he reached out and wrapped Dimitri in one of his signature bear hugs, which surprisingly wasn't so annoying anymore.

When he let him go, Vlad ushered him into the house and shut the door. He took a good long look at him, at the man he'd considered his son. His brother. Family. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you, my boy."

"It's good to see you too, Vlad."

"And you know," Vlad said, a little hurt evident in his voice, "you could have written. Visited. Called. I see you every day for ten years, and then...." He cleared his throat. "Well. I'm only saying five years is a long time to worry."

"I know, I know, Vlad, and I'm sorry. I am." Dimitri took a seat, but then stood up again, still too restless to sit. "I shouldnt've gone like that. I messed up---in more ways than one." He took a deep breath, and cut to the chase. "I want Anya back."

Vlad, standing by the fireplace, gave him a knowing sideways glance. "You're still in love with her?"

He was done lying. "Yes. And I need your help."

"_My_ help?" Vlad laughed. "I don't see what good it would do. You should have listened to me five years ago. I assume you've heard about the wedding? Sophie has spoken of your...involvement."

"Yeah. Ironic, isn't it." Dimitri rolled his eyes. "Listen, Vlad, I need you to tell me what I'm getting into, here. This is Anya we're talking about. Why would she marry _him_?"

Vlad took a seat. "I can tell you that she does not love him, that's for sure."

"Then what's the deal?"

"From what I know, they were set up by friends of theirs last year, and he asked her to marry him about six months ago. Beleive me, my boy, it was pure duty---he has only a mild interest in her. To him, this is little more than a good political move."

Dimitri shook his head. "She deserves better."

"And you're it?" Vlad smirked.

"Possibly," he defended.

"You do know that you can afford to pay him to skip town." He was only half joking.

"I have to do this the right way. What else you got?"

Vlad sat back and contemplated what he knew of the relationship. "What do you want to hear?"

"Why would she say yes?"

"Because," Vlad sighed, "she knows her grandmother has..._concerns_ about her future. She wanted to settle down for the Dowager's sake, not her own, and quite frankly I suspect she accepted because you weren't there to ask her yourself. Just because she doesn't love Boris doesn't mean she hates him. He is curteous, respectful, and she got tired of hoping. Is that what you were waiting to hear?"

"Yes. And no," Dimitri winced, "but it helps. And another thing," he added, his eyes taking on that old 'I've-got-a-plan' look. "I need to get rid of exactly ten million rubles. Fast."

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**Yay! Viva Vlad! And for you conspiracy theorists, _no_, the dress did NOT not fit because she's pregnant or anything crazy like that. It's a sign, okay? But will it work? Will there be more? Will I stop talking? You'll just have to find out! Please review, thanks.**

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	8. Never Tell Me The Odds

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**Oh, if only he could find a way to be around her more often, then maybe it would be unavoidable.... Oh, well. ;D Wondering about the money? (And yes, he has more now. He would have used the first ten mil to start business, so he's not going broke all over again by getting rid of it. It's symbolic.) Read on... **

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"Hey, Lyd?" Anastasia was flipping through her mail the following morning, and she came across an envelope marked 'express.' It was from the St. Petersburg Children's Orphanage Fund that she, Lydia and Marie had established. "Lydia!"

Lydia came in from the adjoining room. "What?"

"What's this?"

"I dunno. Open it and see."

Picking up a letter opener from the table, Anastasia slit the envelope open and pulled out a typewritten business letter.

"To the royal family," she read aloud. "We wish to inform you of a generous anonymous donation we have recieved yesterday in the amount of---" She gasped, not believing what her eyes were telling her.

"What? What does it say?" Lydia begged, trying to get a peek. Anastasia picked up where she left off.

"---in the amount of ten million rubles," she finished in awe. "This donation was recieved by express mail and we have alerted you at the first opportunity. Best regards, the St. Petersburg Children's Orphanage Fund."

"Well that's _great!_" Lydia exclaimed. "That's _amazing_!" Who _did_ this?"

"_I_ know who did this," Anastasia said suddenly. "He's trying to bait me, that's what he's doing. Well he's out of his mind. He thinks he can just show up after five years, give me that look of his and convince me just like that that he's _changed_ or something? No. No. He's got another thing coming. You can't just _do_ that to somebody! Just because he makes a...a...."

"Gigantic," Lydia supplied, watching in confusion.

"---a gigantic donation to the charity I created doesn't mean he's right! Well fine. Fine. If he wants to play that game, then _fine_."

Fuming, Anastasia shoved the letter into a bewildered Lydia's hands and stormed from the room.

"Uh, are you sure you're okay...?"

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"Grandmama?" She flew into the room, then out of it, then into another one. "Grandmama!"

"In here, darling."

Anastasia followed the sound of her voice and ended up in the sitting room. "Grandmama, where are Earl and Henry? I need to take care of something and it can't wait." It was common knowledge that the Grand Duchess went nowhere without her bodyguards, at least until marriage, by orders of the Dowager.

"Well, dear," Marie said apologetically, "I'm afraid Henry quit this morning. He said something about...an offer he couldn't refuse." To make up for the shocked look on her granddaughter's face, she hastily added, "Don't worry---I have already hired a replacement."

_Oh, God, tell me it's not_.... She gulped. "Who?"

"Someone you know well," Marie smiled, proud of herself.

Hearing someone enter, Anastasia turned around, confirming her suspicions. He was in the doorway.

"Hey, boss," Dimitri grinned. "Though ironically I'm doing this for no pay. Miss me?"

"Hardly." She whirled around to face her grandmother again. "Grandmama, you can't be serious!" Frustrated, she did the only thing she could think of to do. Pointing at him, she demanded, "Please, just _remove_ him from my sight!"

"I'm sorry, darling," Marie chuckled, standing up. "But I'm afraid this time you kids will have to work things out for yourselves." With that, she left the room, and they were alone.

"You were the offer, weren't you?" she scoffed. "You paid Henry to quit, right?"

"It's a possibility."

She crossed her arms. "And the ten million to charity?"

He shrugged. "I didn't want it around anymore."

"I know what you're doing. You think you can just buy your way back into my life? Well I've got news for you. It's not happening." Her words were venom. But it was okay. He was immune. Already. Still.

"The money isn't important. Sometimes you just need to...create opportunities," he reasoned, choosing his words carefully.

He truly looked sincere, and when he added a little grin to that look, she looked away, badly pretending not to care. "Oh yeah? Opportunities for _what_?"

"You know," Dimitri said. "Or at least you _should_ know."

"How could I know something you've never told me?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he gave her a smile, bowed, and left the room, leaving her wondering. Well, not _wondering_, exactly. Because she _did_ know.

She just wasn't giving in.

Quickly, Anastasia put on a long hooded cloak and opened a window. She'd get into town guard-free if it was the last thing she did.

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**Hmm, two can play that game.... ;D Reviews.**

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	9. Two To Tango

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**I should mention I don't own Star Wars (random), because the title of the previous chapter was a quote from Han Solo. Anyway. (I say that a lot, don't I?) Wanna find out what Anya's got up her sleeve? Nobody's stoppin' ya....**

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By the time Dimitri's 'shift' was up---most of it spent finding Her Highness---the bar was almost completely vacant. He walked up to the counter where the barkeep was swiping a rag along the shelves.

"Gimme a double, Tom." It had been a really, _really_ long day.

The bartender just turned around and looked at him. Finally he started laughing.

Dimitri was in no mood. "What?"

"You've been cut off, my uninformed friend."

"Cut off?" _You can't be serious._

"Yup. Orders of the Grand Duchess." Tom ignored the fact that Dimitri's jaw had hit the floor and handed him a note from his apron pocket. "She thought you'd be by. Here." He snatched it from his hand.

_So, Mr. Suave. You've changed? PROVE it. Not a drop in all of Paris. Enjoy!_

"Wha...she...ohhh," he fumed, "she is good. Very good. But she doesn't have the upper hand. She only _thinks_ she has the upper hand." He was getting slightly crazy now. "No," he muttered, "I can work with this."

The bartender gave him a bit of a concerned glance. "Do I wanna know what you're talking about?"

Dimitri realized he'd been rambling and sighed. "No. Probably not." Hovering by the counter a moment, he added, "Can I at least get a coffee? Black preferably?"

"Now _that_," Tom relented, "I can do."

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The next morning, the Grand Duchess awoke to a rapid knock on her door.

"Come in," she mumbled, too tired to think first.

As she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she saw Dimitri enter her room.

"Ugh. What do _you_ want."

"A lot of things," he said, "but we'll start with this. You think you're funny, don't you?"

Anastasia remembered her 'meeting' the day before, and a faint smile of satisfaction came to her face. "Oh, yeah...what, you couldn't bribe your way out of that one?"

"Nope," he stated simply. "Didn't try to." Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a sealed flask, and tossed it on the foot of the bed. She realized that in his other hand there were two full bottles, and he tossed those to her as well. "Bought these...what was it, Friday? Anyway. That's all of it---do what you want with 'em. You don't want me to? I won't. You have my word."

Anastasia was...well, shocked. _Uh, that didn't exactly go as I imagined it...._ She sat up a little farther. "Your word, huh? And how good is _that_ anymore?"

"Better than you think."

He turned around and left the room. Anastasia got up and began to get ready for her day, and she was sincerely trying to focus on the upcoming wedding---she really was. But for some stupid, stubborn, horrible, amazing, dumb reason, all she could think about was the last time she'd woken up to his voice; a time when ships and storms and the Romanov Curse were everything and flower arrangements were nothing, nothing at all.

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"Okay, and..._one_ two three, _one_ two three...no, no no!"

Vlad sighed. He'd been honored when Anastasia had asked him to help her and Boris---well, mostly Boris---for the wedding dance. But now, he'd been trying to show the big oaf for a good half-hour, and he wasn't entirely sure it was worth the frustration.

Sighing, he carried on. "Boris, _you_ lead. Don't let her. And, _one_ two three...no. No. Try it again."

Keeping his post by the door, Dimitri was watching the whole scene with a grin on his face. Seeing him with her was more than a little nauseating, but the fact that he was a giant idiot made it _so_ worthwhile.

Anastasia noticed him, too, standing across the room, looking amused. Something about seeing him smile like that made her feel just the littlest, tiniest bit guilty about the freezing cold shoulder she'd been giving him, and she gave him a tiny, 'I-appreciate-your-sympathy' smile.

And then she had an idea. She stopped dancing. Boris almost stomped on her foot.

"Vlad!"

"Yes, my child?"

"I have an idea." She grabbed Boris' sleeve and led him to the sidelines, pointing to a chair. Confused, he sat. "Maybe if Boris can _see_ what he needs to do, he'll catch on faster," she explained as she crossed the room.

She looked at Dimitri with a 'follow-my-lead' face and a hint of a smile, like the old days, and took his hand, pulling him to the center of the room. Now it was _his_ turn to be pleasantly surprised.

Vlad, this time, although a bit shocked, was more than obliged to let them dance.

They took up the old formation from memory, and when Vlad put the record back on, they waltzed around the room, just as perfectly as the last time, the first time.

"So," Dimitri said. "You're still pretty good at this."

Anastasia shrugged without breaking the hold. "I've had a lot of practice. I mean, events and stuff." She was quick to shy away from the Duchess topic. "So Lydia tells me she's been having a good time with Paulie," she grinned.

"_Paulie?_ _My_ Paulie? Paulie De Luca?" She laughed. "No way. _That's_ where he's been for the last two days?"

"Yep. While you were scamming---"

"Harsh word."

"---for my attention, it seems your friend took a cue from the master. He wouldn't take no for an answer until he got Lydia to let him take her out."

"Well. You think you know a guy," Dimitri joked. "Nah, he's all right. He's kinda my best friend now. Oh. That reminds me---" He turned his focus across the room. "Vlad!"

"What is it?"

Still dancing, he shouted back, "Paulie says hi!"

Vlad wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "Paulie? Paulie De Luca? From the poker games? Is _that_ who you've been hanging around?"

"Don't get me started." Anya laughed again. He was starting to enjoy this. It was a positive boon, of course, that Boris couldn't hear a word of the rest of the conversation.

"Don't you think he's got the idea now?" Anastasia looked at Dimitri and nodded toward Boris, but there was a smile, a real smile, on her face now, for the first time in days.

"Hey, your grace---" Oh, how she missed hearing him call her that. "---this was your idea. Besides. I'm not dizzy yet."

She grinned---he was asking for it. "You've been dizzy for twenty-five years," she retorted, trying to sound insulting but holding back a laugh. "Come on. We're done here."

"Fine, all right." Reluctantly but willingly, he let her go, and she walked back over to the glorified monkey sitting next to Vlad. "Do you think you can do that?" she asked patiently, like she was speaking to a passer-by who's just asked directions.

Boris nodded, and for the first time in days, Dimitri smiled too.

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**What? Progress? My God, call in the paramedic...;D I wouldn't give you spoilers even if I could think of any---you'll just have to stay hooked then, won't you? ;D Nothing goes better with coffee than reviews. Special thanks yet again again again to my wonderful enablers, DimitrisDuchess and britney628---like I said, a mention on every new story! **

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	10. Isn't This How It's Supposed To Be?

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**This chapter is a crucial one...this can't go on much longer...wedding is tomorrow...tensions are high...sentences are short...;D Begins same day as the last chapter. Enter at your own risk...**

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"Well?" Rosaline prodded. It was slightly rainy on the walk home after the girls had met for lunch, and she tightened the belt of her coat as she spoke. "Did the lesson do any good?"

Anastasia smiled to herself, keeping her eyes on the ground. Finally, she decided on, "Yes. I definitely think it did some good."

"It's about time," Lydia gushed. "If he danced like that at the wedding we'd have to lock him in the closet."

She gave a quick appreciative laugh at the comment, but something about the idea of her impending wedding suddenly made her want to throw up.

As if reading her thoughts, only the opposite way they were intended, Rosaline piped up again. "Oh, that's _right_---tomorrow is the big day! How do you feel? Are you nervous?"

This time she looked up at the sky instead of down. "Oh yeah," Anastasia replied, and at least it was an honest answer.

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_I can't believe this is happening. Why did he have to come back? Why _now_? I would've been perfectly fine with hating him for the rest of my life. Ohhhh, you know _exactly_ why he came back. And he's right. He's right he's right he's right he's right he's right! Aagh! That is so annoying! I shouldn't even go through with tomorrow---not now. It wouldn't be fair, thinking what I'm thinking. But what am I thinking? Why should any of this make a difference? Because, stupid, you never stopped lo---_

Her thoughts as she entered her room were interrupted as she spotted something on the bedside table. Walking over to pick it up, she realized it was a fresh, single red rose.

Part of her was surprised. Part of her kind of expected it. But all of her knew that Boris, the three times he'd ever sent flowers, always sent half a dozen white, meaningless daisies.

This rose, on the other hand, meant a different kind of Together In Paris. And he---not Boris---knew it.

Quickly, Anastasia plucked the dozen wilted lilies out of the vase by the bed and set the rose in their place. It looked better there, she decided with a soft smile, dropping the dead ones in the wastebasket.

Out of nowhere there was a knock on her door, and, startled, she threw the newspaper she'd intended to read into the can to cover the floral graveyard. "Come in!"

Dimitri played it safe and poked his head in the door first. "I, uh, I won't stay long. Is there anything else you need before I...go off-duty, sort of?"

Anastasia held back a laugh. That was just like him: half the time, he knows just what to say; the other half the time he can barely assemble a sentence. "No, no, I'm all right. Thank you."

One of them---who knows which; they probably would have both started to speak and cancelled each other out---was about to say something else, when the door flew the rest of the way open and Earl barged into her room.

"Excuse me, your highness, I'm very sorry," he managed, sweating bullets, "but there's been a...well I....there's..."

"Yes?" she pried, growing concerned.

"Well, I was bringing Master Pooka back from his walk, where you requested I take him, and, and, he must have spotted something interesting in one of the maids' laundry baskets, because...well, before I knew it the leash was out of my hand, and...."

"And what? Where's Pooka, Earl?"

The guard gulped, tugging at his collar. "I, uh...he's...it seems he's trapped in the laundry chute, your highness. He fell about halfway, and then...."

He never finished that sentence, because Anastasia wasn't in the room anymore. She pushed past him and ran for the end of the endless hallway, the sound of helpless barks getting louder and louder. Dimitri was right behind her.

"What do you think you're gonna do?" he shouted, given that she was so far ahead of him.

She didn't turn around. "I don't know _what_ I'm gonna do. I'm going to save my dog." She threw him a quick glare over her shoulder. "What are you still doing here? You always hated Pooka."

"I'm helping---what does it _look_ like."

"If this is one of your tricks, if you set this up to look like the hero, I _swear_---"

"I didn't! I had nothing to do with this, okay?" he insisted. Stopping in front of the door to the only laundry chute in the house, Anastasia pushed open the door, and they both looked down into the dark tunnel. They couldn't see him, but Pooka was trapped somewhere between the trapdoor and the basement.

"Hang on, boy!" she called down. "I'm gonna get you out of there, okay?"

Pooka whimpered in response. In the meantime, Dimitri was taking off his jacket. He shoved it into her hands and put a foot up on the ledge.

"What do you think you're doing?" she gaped.

He shrugged. "I'll go get him."

"Don't you think there's a safer way to do this?"

"Well, I'm not hearing any _better_ ideas...."

She wanted to slap him and hug him at the same time. "Be careful," she relented, but he was already halfway inside.

Very slowly, inches at a time, Dimitri worked his way down the steel tunnel, taking extra care not to slip, even a little bit. The fact that there were no footholds made it that much harder, but it was a small enough space that he made it work.

Finally he saw Pooka, squirming around in a wedged-in pile of laundry. Pooka must've seen him too, because first he yipped for joy, and then he growled for old time's sake.

"Easy, mutt. Unless you think another twenty feet down would be a good trip."

Scooping him up by the scruff of his neck, he started back up toward the top floor, even more difficult now with the cargo.

Anya had the door open, watching the whole thing, or what she could see of it anyway. After what seemed like forever, a hand streched up toward her out of the darkness, and that hand had a dog in it.

"Oh my God! I can't believe it!" Grabbing Pooka up in a hug and setting him down on the floor, she took Dimitri's hand and assisted him in getting out of the comically small laundry chute.

"See? Toldja. No big deal." Dimitri straightened up and brushed some of the dust off his clothes.

"No," Anya said, looking straight into his eyes, her voice almost a whisper. _He hates that dog. To risk something like that, he must love...._ "It _is_ a big deal. Thank you." She made a decision, right then and there. "Dimitri, I can't _do_ this anymore. Here you are, being so perfect to me, and I don't deserve it! I _know_ you're sorry, I _knew_ that, and I keep pushing you away, I keep going back to planning that stupid wedding that I didn't even want in the first place. Ugh, I can't even _think _about that right now! You keep trying to prove it to me and I keep ignoring you, and I don't _want_ to, I _never_ wanted to. I _had_ to, or I thought I did...."

"Anya," he said, trying to calm her down, and that's when she realized she was crying.

"Great. First I screw up our lives, then I make a complete fool of myself in a hallway."

"That's okay, I happen to hold the world record for making a fool of yourself. You'll catch up eventually." That made her laugh. It felt good to make her laugh again. "Anya..."

She looked back up at him, and he looked at her, and before anyone could stop themselves...well, it didn't matter if it was said that she kissed him or he kissed her. They were both true.

"I love you, Dimitri, I'm so sorry," she said when they parted, for only seconds at a time.

The next breath was his turn. "I never should have left. All of this was my fault."

"Finally you take the blame for something," she said, managing a joke before they both went silent again.

They stayed like that for the longest moment in the world, and he kissed her until it felt like they'd spent another five years in that hallway.

Eventually, like all good things, it came to an end, and they just stood there with their arms around each other, her resting her head against his shoulder.

Anya was content to just let the moment pass in silence, so she was surprised when Dimitri spoke.

She was even _more_ surprised at what he _said_.

"You know we can't do this."

She pulled back from him, a horrified look on her face. Her voice was a whisper. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Anya. But you're engaged. This isn't right."

"Ri..._right?_" She felt like she was going to faint. "Since when do _you_ care what's _right?_"

"Anya. You know it. I know it. You can't back out of this wedding."

"Dimitri..." The tears started again, much as she willed them not to.

"Everyone in Paris is going to be there. Think of your grandmother. You can't let them all down now. It's too late. You..." He tried not to choke on this part. Not now. "You belong with him."

"Dimitri, no..."

"Look." He let go of her hands, and started backing up down the hallway. "We said what we needed to say. Did what we needed to do. Now we have to get on with our lives."

"Dimitri, please..." She followed him, clinging to his sleeve, breaking his heart. He stopped for only a second, gave her one last kiss, and said, "Promise me, Anya. Promise me more than anything that you'll be at that church tomorrow."

"No," she shook her head, "no..."

"Promise me," he interrupted. "Anya, if you care anything for me at all you will be there, at the church, tomorrow. I need you to _promise_ me."

She couldn't speak, but nodded, just a little, little bit. Taking this as the 'yes' he needed, he turned around, heading for the stairs, trying not to hear the Duchess' door slam.

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**MAJORLY unexpected, huh? Shook me a little just writing it. _Review_, by all means, just don't harpoon me until you know where I'm going, okay? You know me by now. ;-)**

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	11. Last Step, First Step

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**So, that last chapter was pretty heavy, huh? Very un-Anya like to just take it. So she won't. :D Get ready, cause you'll never guess...or, maybe you will, just..._aagh_, I'm shutting up now. Keep reading!**

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The sky the day of the wedding was bright blue to everyone but the bride. To her, it was black.

He was gone. And this time she didn't blame him.

He was right. It was too late.

Anastasia said nothing the whole ride there. Numbly she walked into the back of the church, and silently she greeted Sophie, Lydia and Rosaline.

"Aww, _look_ at you, you're _speechless_," Lydia cooed.

"You look _beautiful_ Anastasia, really."

"Thank you." Her reply was quiet, and hoarse.

Sophie looked at her closely, carefully. "Are you all right?"

Anya was silent. She'd been looking down, but now she glared up at them. "No," she hissed. "No. I'm _not_ all right. _Look_ at me." She indicated the ivory silk-tulle gown she wore and the veil that was longer than the doorway. Then, she looked around at the heavily decorated church, at the candles and flowers everywhere. "_Look_ at this place! Whose _idea_ was all of this?"

"Well, _yours_," Rosaline answered timidly, unsure of where this was going.

"I never wanted _this!_ I never wanted _that_---" she pointed to the rose garlands, "---or _that_---" now the candles, "---or _that_," at last pointing toward the door to the guest-packed cathedral. "This is crazy! What kind of spoiled princess picked _this_ thing out, huh?" she demanded, plucking at her skirt. "_Huh?_"

"W...well, _you_---"

"No! _Not_ me! I did all of this for Grandmama, thinking I had no other choice. Well maybe now I _wanna_ choose! I've spent the _past five years_ doing what _other_ peole wanted me to do! Grandmama wanted me to settle down, so I did. Dimitri wanted me to show up, God knows why, so I did! I'm tired of doing what everyone else thinks is best for me! What about what _I_ want?" She shook her head. "There's no way I can go through with this wedding. He's _not right_ this time! He's not right!"

Anya turned, fully intending to leave the building. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't at least _try_ to find him. Maybe it wasn't too late to tell him; to set things right.

But she wouldn't get the chance. To her surprise, Lydia grabbed her arm, and Sophie grabbed her other one. She looked to them in shock, first one, then the other.

"What are you guys doing?"

"We're all glad you got that out of your system, Anastasia, but you can't neglect your own wedding," Rosaline told her, calm as a bluejay.

_She_ was slightly less calm. "_What?_"

They started to steer her back inside, and Lydia added, "Everyone's expecting you in there."

"Don't you get it? I don't _care_ what everyone expects! This is _my_ decision! Let me go!"

"We can't do that, dear," Sophie said simply. Rosaline went about adjusting her veil for her. Anya swatted her hand away, but that didn't stop her.

"Stop that! I'm _not_ getting married!"

"Now, now, yes you are. What kind of friends would we be if we let you run out of your own wedding?"

She was getting frighteningly close to the cathedral doors, and she couldn't break free. "Guys! Let me go!"

"Good luck, Anastasia!"

"You have to _listen_ to me, I don't love him, you can't _do_ this---"

"Yes we can."

"You don't understand!"

"Oh, it's all right to be nervous---"

She made one last effort to kick free, but Sophie and Rosaline's hands were already on the door handles. "I'm not nervous, you're not _listening_ to me, I---"

She stopped cold, mid-sentence. The doors were open. The cathedral was full. Everyone was on their feet. And they were looking at her.

But she was looking past them.

There was the minister, front and center, right where he should be. There was the spot where she was supposed to stand, and room for three bridesmaids behind that. But straight down the aisle that stretched in front of her, there was no Boris.

Instead, in his place, Dimitri was the one in the tux, waiting for her with a mile-wide smile on his face.

Anya couldn't speak---or even think, momentarily. She was vaguely aware of Rosaline, Sophie and Lydia slipping past her, bouquets in hand, walking single-file to their rightful bridesmaid spots. As if from someone else's perspective, she also vaguely noticed that the groomsmen had transformed from the planned boring second-cousins to Vlad, Paulie and Gregorio.

Relieved, beaming, and absolutely shocked, she began her walk up the long gold carpet. She was glad it was already an emotional kind of situation---that way she didn't have to explain the tearing up or the blinking.

Finally she was at the front of the church. Dimitri took her hand. "You look beautiful," was all he said.

It took a minute until she could speak, and when she could, she said, "All along? All of what you said...was just to get me here?"

He shrugged. "I knew you'd back out if I didn't make you promise." And then, with a laugh, "How else was I supposed to get you down the aisle this fast?"

She laughed. "And Boris?"

"Now _him_, I paid," Dimitri admitted, and she laughed again.

"You thought of everything."

He smiled back, and then, in a rare move, he got serious. "I would never have meant what I said last night, Anya. I made the mistake of thinking I wasn't good enough for you once. Then I realized that's _your_ decision." He looked around at the house full of guests, catching a teary Marie out of the corner of his eye, and then he looked back at her. "So, your grace; what's it gonna be?"

Not bothering to answer in words, Anya stepped forward and kissed him with everything she had. For the first and only time in many, many years, the entire church bucked tradition and burst into applause.

"All right, all right," the minister interjected, prying them apart. "We're not _at_ that part yet." The audience shut up, and the minister cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentelmen, mesdames et messieurs, we are gathered here today to join this man---it _is_ the right one this time, correct?"

Dimitri rolled his eyes. "Yes..."

"Ah. Very good. To join this man and this woman in Holy matrimony...."

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**Pulling back, fading out slowly...insert "and they all lived happily ever after" here. :) Remember it's all been a dream, so our main character still has to wake up.... You _gotta_ review this one---don't leave me hangin' _now_, of all times. That was genius! I don't even know how I came _up_ with that! Normally I'm more humble than that, but yes, that was bragging. I've had a good day. :D _Please_ review! Thank you thank you thank you!**

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	12. Sleeping Lessons

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**The title of this chapter is the name of an awesome song by the Shins, if you're interested. Anyway, Tasha wakes up a few hours after chapter one. Let's see what everyone thinks of it....**

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For some reason the scene went dark. It went quiet, too, and then her eyes opened. Looking around at the curtains and the shelves and the lavender carpet, Tasha realized where she was.

Throwing off her covers, she stood up and walked out of her pitch-black room and into the hallway. The clock on the wall read just past three in the morning---no one else would be awake now. Because she had her father's appreciation for rules, Tasha thought to herself that this would be a good time for that dessert she'd missed out on.

Tiptoeing down the stairs and into the kitchen, she flicked on the light and was startled to find her mother standing at the sink. Anya was startled too, and when she looked up, she gave her daughter a knowing grin.

"Heading for that cake now?"

Tasha started to deny it, but in the end she just gave a bashful little smile. "I woke up," she explained.

"That's okay. So did I." Anya held up the glass of water she'd come for. "Still hungry?" she asked, surprising her daughter.

"Really?"

Opening the refrigerator, Anya took out a plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it and grabbed two forks. "There's no harm in a midnight snack here and there."

"Agreed." Tasha pulled out two chairs from the table and sat in one, leaving Anya the other. She sat, too, and handed her a fork.

"Feeling better?"

Tasha nodded, taking a bite of cake. When she swallowed, she said, "I had the strangest dream."

"Really? What about?"

"Well, you know how I was saying it would be wierd if you were a Duchess and if dad took the reward?"

Anya stabbed another piece of cake. "Sure."

"That was the dream I had. It was everything you guys told me, but different."

"Different?" Anya was genuinely interested in hearing this part. She set her fork down and turned in her chair a little. "How so?"

Tasha thought back. She hated how difficult it was to remember dreams once you were awake. "Let's see.... Dad took the money and left. He was going back to St. Petersburg, but he came back and helped you, and then after the fight you took the crown to get back at him."

"Wow. That's pretty vivid for a dream," Anya commented.

"That wasn't all of it. Then five years went by, and you and dad ran into each other again, except you and Aunt Lydia and Aunt Rosaline were all really rich, and dad was rich, too. He was there with Paulie and Leo and Gregorio."

"He told you about them?"

She nodded. "Once. I can't remember when. Anyway, they were there, and Sophie invited him to your wedding."

Anya had to laugh at that. "_My_ wedding? Who was I engaged to?"

"Some jerk. Doesn't matter. But then dad decided he wanted you back, so he spent all week finding ways to be around you, and then once you came back he tricked you into getting married."

"Yep," Anya laughed, "that sounds like your father all right."

"_What_ sounds like her father?"

Both girls looked toward the stairs, finding that the voice had come from Dimitri as he entered the kitchen.

"Nothing," Anya covered, sharing a smile with her daughter. "We were just discussing how stubborn you are."

"Trust me, neither _one_ of you has any room to talk there." He walked over to the cupboard and got down a glass. "What's everybody doing up? Besides eating cake at three in the morning."

"I was just telling mom about this wierd dream I had," Tasha explained.

"Ah. And you, your highness?"

Anya got up from the table, setting the empty plate in the sink and blocking Dimitri's path. "I was thirsty. I find it funny that _you_ ask _us_ why we're up so late, when _you_ came down ten minutes after us. Right Tasha?" She winked.

Tasha loved playing Gang Up On Dad. It was fun. He was defenseless. "Right!" she grinned.

Dimitri was still just trying to get a glass of water. "_I_ woke up because you were gone, thank you very much. That, and two certain redheads were having a Talk Radio session down here."

"We are _not_ that loud," Anya argued, pretending to be insulted.

"You'd have to be. I woke up, didn't I?" he smirked. Anya still wouldn't move, so he picked her up and lifted her out of the way, and she shreiked in laughter. Tasha watched this with a smile on her face, recalling the dream. _I like it better this way,_ she decided.

"We're lucky Mikey sleeps like _you_ do," Anya said once she was on the ground. She started up the stairs. "I'm going back to bed. You make sure nothing blows up, okay?"

"I will," Dimitri called after her.

"I was talking to Tasha!" she called back, just before she closed their door, ensuring that she had the last word.

Dimitri finally got his glass of water, and Tasha yawned, realizing she was more tired than she'd guessed. She stood up, putting her chair back where she'd found it.

"So what was that dream about?" Dimitri asked.

Tasha stopped at the foot of the stairs. "I dreamt mom was the Grand Duchess and you took the reward."

He looked curious, and she really did want to tell him the whole story, but not now. It was getting harder to keep her eyes open. "Yeah?" he asked. "How'd that go?"

"Well, we woulda been really, _really_ rich," she decided. "I'll tell you tomorrow, okay?" She turned back and gave him a hug, and he huggged back.

"Sure, kiddo. Go get some sleep."

Tasha started up the staircase. "'Night daddy."

"'Night."

But just before she disappeared upstairs, she thought of one last thing. "Hey daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"You should look Paulie up."

With that, Tasha ascended back to bed, leaving a confused Dimitri alone in the kitchen.

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**Ha. Fun. XD So there you have it, people, the alternate story. Hope you enjoyed it. Oh, and I HAVE to mention, this entire story was inspired by the song "Age Of Consent." You _must_ download it/listen to it/whatever, because it's perfect. I'm talking about the version by Grant-Lee Phillips from the album Nineteeneighties, though, NOT the one by the New Order. They're totally different. But that's beside the point. The point is PLEASE REVIEW ME!!! :D Thank you all. Peace & love, I'm off to pick back up with the Travelogues.**

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